The Girl Who Wanted to Belong, Book 5 Page 20

  Thankfully, the situation wasn’t as bad as I feared. The meeting got started and we learned that Wendy and Dean had told Social Services, in a letter, that though they were still not ready to have Lucy back living with them full time any time soon, they were now prepared to have her for some overnight stays in the future, hopefully building up to weekends and longer stays, as had been the hope right at the start of her placement. Wendy wrote the letter and said they would make a decision by Christmas as to whether Lucy could return home on a permanent basis. The Social Services manager who was chairing the meeting made it clear that Wendy had introduced this Christmas deadline of her own volition and that any decision would ultimately be ‘carefully considered by everyone involved in Lucy’s care’.

  ‘Does anybody have any questions?’

  I said I was concerned about whether Wendy and Dean would stick to the proposed overnight and weekend arrangements when the time came, because we’d tried to go down this road before and it hadn’t worked well. I desperately didn’t want Lucy to be upset and disappointed all over again. I asked if the social workers could get involved in fixing up the visits, to make things more official, and hopefully more likely that Wendy and Dean would not let Lucy down or try to change plans at the last minute. Jess nodded as I spoke and said she thought this was a very good idea.

  ‘Yes, I agree with that,’ said the manager. ‘In fact, we already have the first date. I’m told Wendy chose this one as the family is going for fittings that day, for wedding outfits. She would like Lucy to be fitted for her dress.’ This sounded very promising; it was the first time we’d heard anything about Lucy being at the wedding. We were told the date for the visit was in the middle of September, after the start of the new school term, and we went on to have a discussion about Lucy’s education and how she would stay at St Joseph’s until further notice.

  ‘Now she’s statemented it will be easy to transfer her back to her old school in due course,’ a representative from the LEA commented. I’d never seen this person before, and in fact there were several people in this meeting I’d never met previously, but I thought that was a good sign. Social Services was clearly very motivated to help Lucy return home. They believed her place was with her family, and if she was successfully moved back it would of course also be beneficial to them, as the fostering service was as stretched and underfunded as ever.

  Afterwards I chatted to Jess in the car park.

  ‘Good news,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Yes, it’s great to have a date in the diary and I’m sure Lucy will be thrilled, but we can’t count our chickens, can we?’

  ‘No, not at all. One step at a time, but at least we’re going in the right direction.’

  I took the opportunity to ask Jess if she ever heard any more about the mix-up with the complaint or the investigation into Wendy.

  ‘I did hear something, just the other day. It seems Wendy had fallen out with the neighbour over the extension work on their house, and she reckoned the call was made spitefully, because the neighbour was jealous.’

  ‘So the whole sorry episode was the work of a malicious neighbour?’

  ‘It seems that way. As far as I know everything was sorted out swiftly and no action was taken. Obviously, the main thing from our point of view is that Wendy never did anything wrong and this doesn’t affect Lucy’s return home.’

  Later, I sat Lucy down and told her the news about her forthcoming visit home, sticking to the one date that was in the diary and being careful not to be drawn into any discussions about what may happen after that. I mentioned the planned dress fitting too.

  She didn’t react at all.

  ‘So, that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?’ I prompted.

  ‘Am I a bridesmaid?’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘I don’t know, sweetheart.’

  We had been asked not to resume phone contact between Lucy and her family until after her visit. I imagined this was because of Wendy’s original decision that ‘cold turkey’ was what was required, but I wasn’t sure.

  ‘How many days is it I have to wait?’

  She started counting on her fingers and then got stuck when she ran out of digits.

  ‘It’s just over two weeks,’ I said. ‘It’s back to school first, so the time will fly, I’m sure.’

  Lucy nodded. I wasn’t sure how she felt because she just stared at me.

  ‘Are you feeling OK?’

  ‘I thought I was going to see Daddy at the end of the school holidays?’

  ‘I know you did, sweetheart. But at least it’s not long to wait now.’

  ‘Can I call Granny?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  The next day Lucy’s new social worker, Cedella, was coming to the house to introduce herself, so I told Lucy all about this.

  ‘Will she be my social worker until I go home?’

  ‘I’m not sure but I expect so.’

  ‘Adults don’t know anything,’ she said, and walked out of the room.

  Cedella was a striking young woman who wore a bright yellow and turquoise scarf in her elaborately plaited black hair. Lucy stared at her, and Cedella tried to break the ice by telling Lucy she grew up in Jamaica and loved bright colours.

  ‘Yellow is my favourite. What about you, what do you like?’

  ‘Just colours, or can I say anything?’

  ‘Anything you like!’

  Lucy grinned.

  ‘I like horses, and getting muddy. I like blue and purple and green. I like playing football. I don’t like school. I’m rubbish at maths and English. I like art. I like making things. I want to be a carpenter when I grow up.’

  That last piece of information was news to me; I was impressed by Cedella’s way with Lucy.

  ‘Wow! So many interesting things,’ she smiled. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl, or a boy, who wants to be a carpenter when they grow up.’

  Lucy giggled. She said her daddy called her a tomboy.

  ‘My sister Milly likes dancing and all that girly stuff. He says we’re like chalk and cheese.’

  I knew Cedella would want to talk to Lucy privately and I left them to it. They chatted for about fifteen minutes before I heard Lucy call me, saying Cedella was leaving. I saw the social worker to the door after she’d said goodbye to Lucy.

  ‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Angela. I’ve spoken to Lucy about her visit home and we’re all set up. She’s keen to please, isn’t she? I didn’t bring it up but she told me she promises she’ll be on her very best behaviour. I hope it goes well.’

  I thought it was sad that Lucy felt she had to be on her very best behaviour. I knew she could be awkward at times, but she wasn’t that bad. It must have been very tough for her, having to try so hard to please and seeing things unravel despite her best efforts.

  It was left for me to call Wendy and make the travel arrangements, and Cedella said that if we had any problems Social Services could provide taxis. She also advised it would be best to stick to the plan and not put Lucy on the phone, ‘in case the timing isn’t good’. I got the impression Cedella had done her homework on Wendy and I agreed with her. The last thing we wanted was to give Wendy any excuse to change the visit or have any opportunity to criticise or complain ahead of the visit.

  From that moment on Lucy was like a child waiting for Christmas, talking to anyone who’d listen about the number of sleeps before her visit and how she was getting a dress for the wedding. She looked through the style and fashion supplements that came with the Sunday papers – something she’d never been interested in before – and speculated excitedly about what type of dress she might have. Lucy normally refused to wear skirts and dresses and even chose to wear trousers for school, though she was the only girl in her class who did so. I’d have been amused about her sudden interest in girls’ fashion if it weren’t for the nagging doubts I had. Wendy was unpredictable and I didn’t trust her enough to believe this dress fitting would go ahead as planned, or e
ven if the wedding itself would pan out the way it was meant to. It seemed a huge leap to go from refusing to see or even speak to Lucy to including her in the wedding plans like this. Still, there was no point in being pessimistic and expecting failure. It was much better to take a leaf out of Lucy’s book and look forward with hope and optimism.

  I had a call from Cedella to tell me Dean wanted to phone Lucy up before the visit after all.

  ‘What’s brought the change of heart?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just got a message asking me to let you know. He said he’ll call on Wednesday when he’s in from work, at six o’clock.’

  After that the plan was that I would speak to Wendy during the week of the visit, to make the practical arrangements, as it seemed Dean had said to Cedella that was ‘Wendy’s department’. I was pleased to hear he’d said that; at least Dean wasn’t going to cancel the visit, I thought.

  Lucy was very pleased when I told her Daddy was calling, and she sat by the phone expectantly.

  ‘I’ve missed Daddy so much. I miss Josh and Liam and Milly. And Gemma. And Wendy.’ Her voice tailed off. ‘When I go home I’ll remember to be on best behaviour, I will. I’ll remember to call her Mum. Can I tell them all about staying with Granny?’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll like to hear about it.’

  ‘No, I won’t,’ she suddenly decided. ‘They might think I’m bragging and I have to be good.’

  I prayed that Dean would phone on time and not let Lucy down, but no call came. Lucy hovered by the phone for five minutes, ten minutes, then fifteen. While she waited I had a little chat to her about what she’d said about bragging, trying to explain that there was nothing wrong with passing on her news, and that she should ask her siblings about their holiday. Eventually I suggested she should go in the garden and get some fresh air.

  ‘I’ll wait by the phone and call you in as soon as it rings. Don’t worry, I won’t miss it.’

  ‘Shall I ring him instead?’

  ‘No. It’s best to wait. He’s obviously not able to talk right now. He might have been held up at work.’

  She shrugged, sighed and went outside. Lucy normally kicked a ball, skipped or jumped on the pogo stick – something she’d got very good at over the summer – but I watched from the kitchen window as she sat on the low wall by the rockery, looking dejected and throwing small pebbles into an old plant pot.

  She came in after about twenty minutes.

  ‘Look, I need to talk to Wendy in any case,’ I said. ‘I’ll call her shortly and see what’s happening, shall I?’

  ‘I suppose. She’s probably told him the wrong time, stupid Wendy!’

  ‘Lucy, we don’t know what’s happened and please don’t talk about Wendy like that. Remember what you said to Cedella about being on best behaviour?’

  ‘I know, but I just want to talk to my daddy and I want to see him NOW. It’s been aaaaages. I miss him. D’you think he’ll have forgotten what I look like?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Hello Wendy. It’s Angela Hart. I was hoping to catch Dean, as Lucy’s been waiting for his call.’

  ‘Oh . . . has she? Er, I didn’t realise. Right, anyway, how is she?’

  I’d obviously caught her off guard and Wendy sounded a bit harassed.

  ‘She’s very well. Looking forward to seeing you all. Had a great time with her grandmother and her behaviour has been very good. Thank you for fixing up her visit home, she can’t wait.’

  I instinctively spoke quickly, for fear Wendy might cut the conversation short before I got everything across that I wanted to.

  ‘Mmm, OK. When are you thinking of bringing Lucy over then?’

  I was taken aback and I explained I had been given the date by Social Services.

  ‘It’s a week on Saturday. I was told you picked that date, and that you wanted to include Lucy in the dress fitting that day?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember. But that’s not going to work out now. Hang on a minute.’

  I heard Wendy pad away from the phone and return, rustling paper.

  ‘Right. Dean’s van will be in the garage a week on Saturday so we can’t pick Lucy up or anything, and I’m going to have to change the date of the dress fitting as we won’t be able to get to town. Probably the following week is better but I’ll have to check. I’ve got a few things on and Dean needs to take the boys to football. They’ve got a cup game.’

  ‘Jonathan and I can bring Lucy over a week on Saturday. It’s no trouble. She’s been counting down the days and I know she’ll be terribly disappointed if she has to wait any longer.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘How will she get home?’

  ‘We can bring her back too.’

  I didn’t want to mention the taxi offered by Social Services as I didn’t want Lucy to be on her own with a taxi driver. It was a big day, and I wanted her to be in the best possible frame of mind, feeling as calm and happy as possible.

  Wendy thought about my offer for a moment.

  ‘Right, but if you bring her over that doesn’t solve the problem of how we’ll all get to the dress shop. I’ll have to rearrange the appointment in any case. Why don’t you let me sort that out, and then Lucy can come over whenever I have a new date for the fittings? Seems a shame for her to miss out.’

  ‘Honestly, Wendy, I think at the moment Lucy is more focused on just seeing everyone. It’s been a while and she’s desperate to see the family. I know she’d prefer to come and not have the dress fitting than not to come at all. If it’s any help, we could also bring her another day, when you get the new appointment.’

  Wendy reluctantly agreed with my suggestion, but not before she argued that Lucy was ‘only a flower girl’, so it wasn’t essential she went along with Gemma and Milly, who were bridesmaids. I let this go even though my heart sank, but Wendy went on to throw another spanner into the works.

  ‘Oh, damn! I completely forgot about the building work.’ This sounded forced and I thought to myself, You’d never make an actress, Wendy.

  ‘The extension?’ I asked breezily, ‘How’s it coming along?’

  ‘Bloody nightmare, honestly, Angela. Never again. It’s still like a building site and it’s caused so much grief. I’ll be grey by the time it’s done, I swear. I’ve even had one of the neighbours kicking off about it and creating trouble like you wouldn’t believe.’

  I didn’t let on I knew anything about the malicious phone call and Wendy clearly had no idea I’d been accidentally caught up in the complaint to Social Services.

  ‘Anyhow, nothing’s finished and the thing is, there’s nowhere for Lucy to sleep.’

  Wendy explained that Milly and Gemma now shared the bunk bed in what was Lucy’s old room, and that Milly’s little bed had been thrown away.

  ‘I can’t have Gemma being kicked out of her bed, or Milly either.’ Wendy said this very defiantly. ‘There’s no room for Lucy. She’d have to go on the floor, and I’m not sure she’d fit in the girls’ room.’

  I felt this was a poor excuse. Milly’s little bed used to fit in that room and, besides, I’ve known kids to top and tail, sleep on sofa cushions, make beds out of piled up duvets or pretend they’re camping and curl up in a sleeping bag on the smallest patch of carpet. Lucy was so slight too; I wasn’t worried at all about her being able to squeeze in. My only concern was the effect it would have on her to be relegated to the floor in her old bedroom, and to see Gemma and her little sister sharing the bunk bed. This was far from ideal, but if that were the set-up we’d just have to go with it. I knew without asking Lucy that she’d rather put up with this arrangement than not visit at all. In fact, if I knew Lucy, she’d have happily slept in the garden shed with the spiders if it meant she could see her daddy.

  I managed to convince Wendy that Lucy could fit in with the girls somehow, and by the end of our call she’d finally run out of excuses, or so it seemed to me, and the visit was back on track. We never heard from Dean and I never got to the bottom
of why he said he was calling and then didn’t – Wendy had no explanation other than that he ‘must have forgotten’ or ‘got muddled up’.

  I was left to pick up the pieces with Lucy, who was miserable and argumentative all night.

  ‘Never mind, you’ll see Daddy soon,’ I soothed, but this didn’t pacify her. Perhaps not surprisingly she said, ‘I’m not talking about that any more,’ and stormed off, kicking the skirting boards all the way up the stairs.

  When I sat down with Jonathan and described my conversation with Wendy I found myself saying, ‘It was like pulling teeth. Painful. Awkward. Just unpleasant. I’ve got no idea when Wendy’s telling the truth or twisting things to suit herself, and her tone changes like the wind. It’s hard to know where you stand.’

  ‘Are you sure they’re ready for this visit?’ he asked, shaking his head. ‘Because after hearing all this, I’m not sure they are.’

  ‘I’m not sure either. But the trouble is, I’m not sure they ever will be. And how can anyone expect things to move on and repair relationships when they are not talking to each other or seeing each other?’

  ‘Quite. And can you imagine the effect it would have on Lucy if it was postponed now?’